Work Text:
“Every threesome has a main character.”
Rumi, skeptical as she had been, was too inexperienced to argue with that. Not when Zoey had spoken so authoritatively, eyes closed and her index finger raised to emphasize her point as though it were irrefutable. In fact, she seemed so certain that Rumi couldn’t help but wonder if Zoey and Mira had been finding thirds for quite some time before finally integrating Rumi into their relationship. The thought had felt like a stone in her stomach, dark and heavy, a jealous, possessive feeling Rumi would rather die than voice, not when Zoey and Mira had been so good to her.
In any case, Rumi had accepted Zoey’s premise at the time. Now, with Zoey cockwarming her as Mira presses a magic wand vibrator against Zoey’s clit, Rumi’s even more unsure, because as delighted as Zoey is, squirming and whining in Rumi’s lap, Mira seems even more thrilled to have two needy, mewling subs to torture.
And it is torture. As good as Zoey feels wrapped around her length, Rumi would give half her net worth for just a taste of what Zoey’s getting from Mira.
The setup had been simple enough. Zoey and Mira had gently stripped Rumi from her casualwear, pressing kisses and praises against her patterns as they laid her out on the bed. Even with no more secrets between them, such vulnerability remained a sensitive spot for the leader of HUNTR/X, especially with her nakedness contrasted against her lovers’ fully-clothed bodies, the glow of her patterns illuminating every crease and fold of fabric in the dim, candlelit room. Once Zoey had slipped the harness of Rumi’s pretty muzzle around the back of her head and booped the metal bars at the tip as though it were Rumi’s nose, she’d awkwardly pulled off her own clothes, trying and failing to shuck off her sweats while tugging her shirt over her head, but even such levity hadn’t slowed Rumi’s rapid, anxious heartbeat. She wasn’t as inexperienced as she had been before joining Zoey and Mira’s relationship, but touch-starved as she was, Rumi had still shivered in anticipation. Much to her embarrassment, her patterns had flickered just from Zoey sitting in her lap, before she’d even taken Rumi’s cock in her hands to angle it into her–
Zoey’s cunt seizes around Rumi, the two of them whining in harmony as the latter remembers that this is real, it’s happening, and she should really be paying attention to Mira and the wand in her hands. Unlike her beloved—and tortured—submissives, Mira had elected to keep some clothes on. She looks so hot with her nipples poking through transparent lingerie and a wet spot on her sheer panties that Rumi can barely bring herself to look at her, lest her patterns flare and betray just how flustered Mira can make her. Unfortunately, that’s exactly what Mira's going for. She’d always preferred being lusted over to clitoral stimulation, let alone penetration, content to get off on the power trip of being desirable to the point of suggestion, but damn it, if Rumi’s to be a good toy for her girls, it’s in her interest to know Mira’s next move.
The way Mira holds the wand is merciless. Her grip is as sure as it is with her Gok-Do, steady even as the vibrations wrestle with her wrist almost as much as Zoey’s squirming, but that’s what Rumi’s there for. The last time Zoey asked for this, to be sat down on a fat, silicone cock and tortured with Mira’s wand until she had orgasm after orgasm dragged out of her overstimulated pussy, she’d squirmed and writhed and fought until she fell off the bed. This time, with Rumi’s breasts pressing against her back and arms around her torso, she won’t be able to get away, because Rumi is a better toy than any silicone could ever be.
At least, she desperately hopes she is.
Rumi grits her teeth behind her muzzle, holding in her moans. Good toys don’t whine, after all, and there’s nothing Rumi wants more than to be good for her girls. They’re too kind to her, malformed as she is, treating her as though she’s a real woman, a real human, a real person. They love her for who she is inside, not just the surface-level pop star persona who is “everyone’s type,” letting Rumi into their hearts, their bedrooms, and even into Zoey’s cunt. If they want Rumi to be a good toy, she’ll be the best toy ever. She’ll follow Mira’s directions, make Zoey feel good over and over, and she won’t lose control, won’t slip up and let her own orgasm wash over her. Unlike a proper toy, Rumi has a refractory period; can go soft, and to make things worse, Zoey’s taking her raw, without the comfort of a thin rubber membrane between Rumi’s cock and Zoey’s softness to dull the sensation. On the off chance Rumi’s half-breed body’s not as infertile as a liger, Rumi doesn’t want to get her lover pregnant. Good toys don’t cum.
“Good girl,” Rumi huffs behind her muzzle against Zoey's ear to draw a shiver out of her, hot breath misting the bars. Rumi's better than a plastic toy. Warmer, stronger, kinder. She brings her hands up to cup at Zoey’s chest, rubbing around the circumference of her nipples as she clutches the smaller girl tightly against herself. She’ll keep Zoey nice and full, held in place until she’s too fucked out and boneless to escape from Mira’s ministrations, and all the while, Rumi will hold back her own desires and please Mira with her obedience.
Frankly, she’s a little surprised this whole situation was Zoey’s idea, not Mira’s, no matter how much the maknae claimed to be the main character of this encounter. Having two internationally acclaimed, gorgeous pop stars submitting to Mira seemed much more “main character” than Zoey’s held-in-place-and-overstimulated position.
For the first time that night, Zoey orgasms. Her squeal is wordless, body tensing in Rumi’s embrace, and the way she squeezes around Rumi’s length is diabolical. With her teeth caged, Rumi cannot sink them into the meat of Zoey’s elegant shoulder to keep from moaning. Instead, all she can do is press the bars into Zoey's skin and hold Zoey even tighter against her chest, her whimpers drowned out by Zoey’s wanton sounds.
And, just as planned, Mira doesn’t let up. “Thaaat’s it,” she croons, her voice deep and gravelly, keeping the wand pressed tight against Zoey’s clit. Zoey squirms, trying to say something through a mouthful of drool, and Mira just smiles. “Good girl. Take it. I know you’re not done yet. Greedy little thing.”
Rumi’s patterns flicker as Zoey’s cunt flutters around her. She wants to move, to lower her hands and grab Zoey’s hips, to thrust up into her and move her, overstimulate her even more, but good toys don’t move, no matter how desperate they get.
Just a fraction of what Zoey’s getting would be enough. More than enough. If Rumi could feel too much, so good it hurts instead of this ambiguous almost, not-quite there pleasure that just leaves her wanting more, she would cry and thank Mira for it.
Mira draws out Zoey’s first orgasm for nearly half a minute until it sounds like she’s choking on her own spit, swallowing and gasping for air in Rumi’s lap, before she’s able to chain Zoey into her second. She whines through gritted teeth, cunt aflutter around Rumi’s cock, and Rumi has to grit her own to keep from finishing. Zoey feels so good squeezing her, wriggling in her lap like she’s trying to get away from Mira’s wand, but even that friction just leaves Rumi’s patterns flashing green with envy. It’s as though Zoey’s drowning in pleasure, so much she can hardly stand it, while Rumi’s dying of thirst, every bit of pleasure she’s denied forced into Zoey instead, this greedy little woman sandwiched between her taller girlfriends.
As far as torture goes, it’s a pleasant sort of agony, one woman made to cum over and over as another is denied her peak, but fuck if Rumi can’t take much more of this. “C-close,” she manages, her hips moving on their own.
Whether the relief Mira grants when she takes the vibrator away is mercy or further agony, Rumi doesn’t know. Zoey goes boneless in her arms; she would have collapsed if Rumi wasn’t holding her. As she catches her breath, Rumi feels the tension in her stomach loosen the tiniest bit, and she can’t hold back the whine at her denied orgasm, even though she wants to be the best toy ever, even though she knows it’s for the best. Good toys don’t cum. This sex was risky enough already.
But holy Honmoon, Rumi wants. It feels like there’s a fire behind her navel burning her from the inside out, and the glow of her patterns grows brighter the more the flame is fed.
Zoey shudders with aftershocks, her pussy quivering around Rumi’s length, and Rumi’s cock jumps involuntarily in response. Zoey whines. “Stop t-twitching!”
“You stop clenching!”
“‘M still sensitive!”
Mira laughs cruelly. “Tapping out, Zo? Already?”
Zoey gives her a withering look that would probably sting more if she wasn’t red to her ears. She swallows. “In your dreams. Just, ah, catching my breath.”
She squeezes around Rumi again. Muzzled as she is, Rumi can't muffle her moans by biting Zoey.
“You good, Rumi?” Mira asks.
“The best.” Rumi’s patterns flash with pride.
“Alright,” Mira says, “you two asked for it.” The vibrator comes forth, brandished like Rumi’s Saingeom, and Rumi has to tighten her grip on Zoey with how much she squirms.
“Five more seconds!” Zoey begs. “J-just a couple more deep breaths! Mir–”
Her whole body jolts when Mira presses the head of the wand against her clit.
“Meanie,” Zoey mumbles.
“If I were really mean,” Mira remarks, “the vibrator would be on max, not off.”
Rumi concurs with a vigorous nod of her head. Zoey knows when she’s outnumbered.
“Alright, Zoey,” Mira says, “ready to cum until you can’t anymore?”
“Boy, would I!” Zoey smiles shakily. She pauses. “Wait. Would I? Until I can’t anymore? Like, ever? Because that sounds like—”
“Too late,” Mira says, her voice sing-song, and turns the wand on. Zoey’s words blend into a single high-pitched squeal that makes Rumi thankful they live atop a penthouse. “That’s my girl,” Mira praises. “You take us so well, puppy. You’re right where we want you.”
“Good girl,” Rumi whispers into Zoey’s ear again, and squeezes her eyes shut when Zoey clenches around her in response.
“You too, Rumi,” Mira drawls. She clicks the vibrator up a notch, and Zoey shudders in Rumi’s lap, fidgeting with her legs, ankles hooking around Rumi’s calves. “Such a good toy for us. Denying your own urges just so this one here can feel as good as possible.”
The praise goes straight to Rumi’s cock with a twinge of white-hot pleasure, and, ironically, makes her feel so close to the edge that she no longer feels capable of being a good toy.
“So much better than Zoey’s dildo,” Mira continues. “You’re keeping her in place for me. She can’t get away from my wand.” She increases the intensity again with the press of a button, and Zoey squirms even more, teeth gritted, held captive in Rumi’s embrace.
Rumi would have finished then and there from that minute friction, were it not for the sheer envy in her veins for how good the wand must feel against Zoey’s clit. She won’t, can’t cum for anything less than a fraction of that pleasure.
“C’mon,” Mira says, and Rumi’s ears prick up. “Let’s do the thing we talked about.”
Zoey blanches. “Y-you plotted a-aAhh~” she tries, “against me?”
“Yup.” Mira pops the P, and leans in.
On Zoey’s other side, Rumi mirrors the action, the bars of her muzzle up against Zoey’s ear. “You feel so good in my arms, so perfect wrapped around my cock,” Rumi praises, her voice soft and sweet to contrast with the low, rough degradation she knows Mira’s breathing into Zoey’s other ear. “I love the way your hips buck when it’s too much.”
“This–is–” Zoey hisses, “So unfair!”
“That’s the best part.” Rumi agrees, although not for the same reasons. The way Zoey’s back arches makes her aware of just how sweaty the two of them have become, and the wet sounds of Zoey’s hips rolling against Rumi’s core and Mira’s vibrator makes her patterns glow viridian with envy.
“Should never have told you– ah–” Zoey gasps, “that I was ever into ASMR stuff–” Her whole body shivers, hands grabbing at anything in reach; the sheets, Rumi’s hips, her own stomach. Rumi knows Mira just licked her ear, a secret weapon she’d prepared for when Zoey was at her weakest.
But Rumi can’t do that on Zoey’s left side. Helpless behind her muzzle, all she can do is growl. “Oh, Zo, don’t you dare complain about getting exactly what you want after asking for it.”
“Not–fair–”
Mira cranks the vibrator up another level, and unceremoniously, Zoey’s caught off-guard by her orgasm. She wails, clenching down so hard on Rumi that it feels like she’s trying to push her cock out of her with just her walls, and Rumi has to hug Zoey properly from behind to keep her in place.
“Mira, Mira, Miramiramira, s-sensitive, I can’t, I can’t–”
“We’ve got you, baby,” Mira purrs. “Can’t get away from this.”
“Rumi, please, ‘s so much, so much–”
Rumi bites her lip with envy. “You know the word. You like this.”
Zoey’s fourth orgasm hits just as quickly as her third. She convulses in Rumi’s lap, head thrashing from side to side, and Rumi can’t tell whether Zoey’s trying to arch her back or curl in on herself, and the friction on her cock has her teetering on something of her own, so good but not enough.
“Please,” Zoey begs, trying and failing to swallow down her own spit. Rumi catches sight of a tear track down her soft cheek, shining in the candlelight. “Mira, Rumi, f-fuck–!”
“Good girl,” Mira coos. She doesn’t move the vibrator an inch. “You’re being so good for us, riding the wave. You’re taking Rumi’s cock so well, look at how bright her patterns are.”
Zoey’s hands grab at Rumi’s upper thighs, palms pressing against soft skin and bright patterns. “Rumi–” she tries, and chokes on her own spit, saying something that may or may not be “cock,” "fuck," or just the clicking sound of trying to swallow down her own drool.
“Don’t worry,” Mira smiles, all teeth. “This won’t end that quickly. Rumi’s a strong girl.” She clicks a button on the wand and the rhythm changes, less of a vibration and more of a deep rumble that Rumi can feel even through Zoey’s body. If she weren’t holding a girl on her lap, she would have doubled over, chased the feeling, desperate for more, more, more. “Such a perfect toy for both of us.”
Zoey sobs. A low, hiccuping sort of groan emanates from her throat as she throws her head back against Rumi’s shoulder, tear tracks catching the light of Rumi’s patterns. Her stomach convulses. Rumi can feel it around her cock, and it’s almost enough. Almost.
She almost feels guilty for the way her cock pulses with each of Zoey’s stomach-spasming sobs, and even worse for how much more she craves. Zoey’s cunt clenches around her, hot and tight and slick and agonizingly frictionless.
Zoey’s fifth orgasm has Rumi seeing double with jealousy. She’s sobbing and drooling and whimpering, “wait, wait, wait,” on Rumi’s cock, but notably not saying “stop,” and after feeling Zoey cum around her five fucking times, Rumi desperately wants just one. She’s been so good, held Zoey in place for Mira to torture her with unrelenting pleasure while holding off on her own, kept still and obedient and made Zoey feel so fucking good. She wants a turn. She deserves a turn.
It’s not fucking fair.
“More,” Zoey gasps, eyes shot wide, as though shocked. “More, Mira, moremoremore–”
Rumi’s teeth champ behind her muzzle. Greedy, she thinks, patterns bright green with envy, lighting up the room. You want more? I’ll give you more, I swear–
Her hips jump against her better judgment, and Rumi can barely manage to keep her willpower from snapping like a cheap guitar string. “Close,” she warns. “Can’t–much–more–”
“Moremoremoremoremore–”
“Just a little longer, Rumi,” Mira says, growling the R in her name the way she likes. “Zoey’s so close to her sixth, can’t you give it to her?”
Rumi growls unintelligibly. Fuck, she’s drooling. Even if her hands were free, she couldn’t wipe it from her chin, not with the muzzle strapped to her face. It’s so unfair she might cry.
She swallows. Rumi’s so close. Too close. She just needs friction, something more than the roll of Zoey’s hips grinding against her as she bucks, trying to escape the excruciating pleasure of Mira’s wand. Gritting her teeth, Rumi fights it as best she can, trying to think of something, anything to distract her from the way Zoey feels around her, Zoey’s soft skin beneath her palms, Zoey’s elegant shoulderblades against her chest, Zoey’s sweat, Zoey’s sweet-scented shampoo, Zoey, Zoey, Zoey–
Perhaps the Westerners are right about their demons. Maybe Rumi really is doomed to Hell, denied release as Zoey cums and cums and cums around her cock.
–And then Zoey cums a sixth time, wailing until her lungs fail her. The Honmoon ripples around her in cerulean rings, gleaming in the dim light of the room, sharp shadows highlighting just how taut Zoey’s muscles are, every inch of her body tensed with her orgasm.
Mira doesn’t let up. She clicks a button on the vibrator, up or down, Rumi doesn’t know, but Zoey’s thrashing in her embrace, quaking on her cock, and something inside Rumi she didn’t know she had snaps in two.
“Stop!” Rumi gasps. Her hands find her own braid, gripping tightly. “I need to stop!”
The vibrator goes silent. Zoey, released from the cage of Rumi’s arms, flops forward onto her face and off of Rumi’s lap, face down, ass up, arms limp noodles by her side. Clear slick and lube dribble from her cunt, and the sight alone would have had Rumi ruinously spilling into the open air if she weren’t so desperate for a taste of the pleasure Zoey’s taken for herself. Both women quiver, Rumi’s cock twitching in the comparatively cold bedroom air, globules of precum dribbling down its slick, shiny length.
“Please,” Rumi begs, half-melted into the pillows behind her.
For a moment, she thinks she’s been abandoned, watching with flickering green patterns as Mira kisses the back of Zoey’s head, earning no response from the quivering woman, but no, she’s moving forward, her soft, warm hand on Rumi’s bicep.
“You were so good for us,” Mira hums. She strokes Rumi’s cheek, fingernails dragging across a pattern there. “You made Zoey feel so, so good. You stuck it out so long. I’m so glad you were able to say stop when you needed to.”
“Please,” Rumi begs hollowly.
“You deserve to finish too.”
Oh, thank fuck. “Please, Mira–”
Mira takes Rumi’s cock in her hand and presses the wand against the underside of her cockhead. Buzzing fills the room.
“Oh, Mira, f-fu–”
The buzz intensifies once, and again, and Rumi sees white.
Hours later, with the sweat and lube and cum gently wiped clean from their bodies, Rumi and Zoey peer over Mira’s shoulders.
Held in Mira’s hands is one of her most prized possessions: a vintage digital camera, circa 2003. Powerful enough for quality, retro enough to all but guarantee any pictures she takes can never make their way to the tabloids. On Mira’s private camera, any photos of her lovers are hers and hers alone.
“Look at that,” Mira drawls. Rumi’s never heard her this proud about anything before. Not their music, not their performances, not her choreography, anything. Her smile is rich.
On the camera’s display, Rumi can see, as though looking down, herself and Zoey sprawled on the bed. She can make out the crease of the fabric beneath Zoey’s face, the arch of her back to the curve of her ass, and her limp arms at her side. She’s sprawled between Rumi’s spread legs, the pink glow of her patterns highlighting the shine of their shared slick. Rumi’s hair is a mess, purple strands escaping her dragon braid, and she has a single arm flung over her eyes. Her length is limp and as slick as the dark patches on the sheets all about herself and Zoey. They look, for all the world, so fucked out that they may as well have been comatose.
“Yeah,” Zoey says proudly, “I’m a genius. I have the best sex ideas.”
“Zoey, we look pathetic.”
“Exactly!” Zoey beams. “I should be the main character of our threesomes more often.”
Rumi meets Mira’s eyes, as if to ask, Is that really how it works?
“I took more pictures,” Mira says, by way of explanation, a greedy smile tugging at the corners of her lips. “Hey, Zo, mind if I show Rumi that one from after you asked to suck my strap?”
“Fuck yeah!” Zoey’s eyes gleam. “Oh, Rumi, you won’t believe how happy Mira was to get that on camera, my mascara was running all over my–”
Rumi couldn’t help herself. She burst into a fit of giggles, even though it almost hurt to laugh. Sure, Zo. You’re the main character. Mira’s so nice to let you be the center of attention.
“What’re you laughing about? Rumi? Rumi?!?”